Exploration
by TheRubyKate
Summary: Hermione kisses Ginny and gives her a lot to think about. ONE SHOT.


You didn't tell your parents you were coming to the Burrow for Christmas – they think you're still at Hogwarts, because you couldn't bear to tell them that wanted to spend your holidays with somebody else's family. It's not that you don't love your parents – but they come from a different world, and can't possibly understand yours. Your mother would only ask you about that darling Ron boy and how he did at school, and totally fail to notice that your world actually revolves around the littlest Weasley, the one with the sweetest smile and the reddest hair and the quietest voice. The one who just happens to be a girl.  
  
You discovered your fascination with Ginny last week, although you know it must have gone on longer than that, kept a secret from yourself by your logical, sensible mind. Ginny came to find you on the last day of term and said, "You are coming home for Christmas, aren't you? I mean – our home," and you made up your mind there and then. But you asked her, with a nervousness that surprised you, whether she meant 'our' as in her family or if it meant you as well, and she smiled and said you were a honouree Weasley, that Bill said so and Bill didn't often talk about anyone except himself. And then, when you smiled, that was when she pointed out that you were standing under mistletoe.  
  
The idea of her saying such a thing - the cliché and surprise of it all - made you laugh, and then she laughed, and while you were giggling together in the doorway of your dormitory, she suddenly leaned in and did kiss you after all; and Lavender, coming up the stairs, squealed and ran back down. And so then you were laughing and kissing together, harder, and you pushed her back against the wall, pressed against her, and you are surprised that it didn't surprise you.  
  
On the train home, people are whispering and staring at you both and Ron shoots dirty looks at Lavender, because he says he's always known she was the kind to lie for attention. You feel almost sorry for Lavender then, but it's her own fault for gossiping, and when Ginny's hand finds yours discreetly underneath the folded cloak on your lap, you realise that to be quite honest, you don't care what Lavender and Ron and everyone else are thinking.  
  
At the Burrow, you are reminded how busy and noisy it is, and wonder if you and Ginny will get any peace, because you long so much to learn every inch of her. You take comfort in the fact that at least you will share a bedroom. But during the day time, Ron or Harry or the twins or somebody will always come charging in without knocking and demanding to know who's taken their quill or their broom or something and so after a few near discoveries on the first day, the two of you learn not to stay cooped up in Ginny's room.  
  
Besides, it's far more exciting when you're not alone. Under the table at dinner, Ginny's hand finds yours, and squeezes when you're in the middle of asking Charlie to pass the potatoes. You turn your squeak of surprise into a cough and Harry is the only one to look at you strangely, because he seems to see everything, but not enough. After dinner it's Ginny's task to take the plates into the kitchen, and of course you help her, and you have a few seconds of frantic kissing until Molly comes in to help with the washing up.  
  
That night, you climb into her bed and you whisper together, because the twins' bedroom is only next door, and so fingers and lips say what words can't in the silent darkness. You learn that she is ticklish on the tops of her legs; she learns that if she bites softly with her lips just there that you will gasp and shudder involuntarily.  
  
Sometimes you walk into the village together, with a shopping list from Molly, because with so many people in the Burrow, including Ron and the twins, food disappears with at an alarming rate. At these times, walking down the hill, hidden by the trees, you can hold hands and kiss and be comfortable with one another without anyone seeing. And in the shop, whilst Ginny holds the basket and you scan shelves and consult the list, you find yourself imagining a time when you will live together and do this every week, for your own house and your own family. But you don't tell Ginny this, because all you've done together so far is whisper and giggle and kiss everywhere and talk about school, and never about the two of you.  
  
On the second day, you are in the shower when she sneaks into the bathroom (with a lock picking device she stole from the twins) and takes off her clothes. You're nervous, despite the fact the door is locked, but she comes under the water with you, her hair darkening and making her skin look so pale and innocent, and kisses you. "You worry too much," she says, and smiles.  
  
You're not quite sure when this kind of thing became so normal, because a few weeks ago you didn't think about it at all, but Ginny is somehow comfortable and familiar and your arms come around her without a second thought.  
  
And then at last, it is Christmas, and everyone squeezes into the living room at once, Ginny and the twins sitting on the floor because there's not enough seats, and everyone laughs and shouts as they open their presents. You've got books from Harry and Ron, and they're ones you wanted even if the idea is a little uninspired, and your parents have sent you money – Muggle money that you'll have to change – because they are too nervous to go to Diagon Alley alone. And Ginny's got you a book too but that's just for show, because you've already agreed to give each other your real presents in private, later tonight, and she opens the pre-arranged hair slides you got her and pretends to gasp in surprise, and all the while you wish that this wasn't so pretend and that you could have Ginny alone to yourself for just one moment.  
  
You were expected her to be thinking the same, but it still surprises you, when after lunch - while people do their separate things and enjoy their presents and send Owls – Ginny takes your hand and tugs you into the living room cupboard. Nobody has seen you enter, of course, she's been careful, but anybody might open this cupboard and you've just heard footsteps in the living room. But her lips find yours and you're pressed together so close in the small space and you take advantage of what might be your only time alone today, ignoring all sounds from the living room, concentrating only on her breathing and gasps.  
  
Then, in a moment when your lips aren't covering hers, she whispers, suddenly, "I love you" and you freeze in surprise and relief and you whisper it back but she's kissing you again before the words are out of your mouth.  
  
Some weeks afterwards - when you are back at school and everyone knows about you and Ginny, thanks to Ron opening the cupboard door in his quest for board games - you think back to the moment under the mistletoe when Ginny first kissed you. You can't help it – every time you step in or out of the dormitory, even though the mistletoe has been taken down, you are reminded of giggles and surprises and soft kisses that lead to harder ones.  
  
The fact that everybody knows hasn't made much difference. Ron got over his angry awkward defence after a surprising intervention from Molly, who also confiscated the Extendable Ears and Eyes that the twins covered Ginny's bedroom with after hearing the news. You weren't sure what Molly's reaction would be - perhaps you didn't think she would be quite so nice about the matter - but Ginny tells you that Molly is just relieved that she won't have to worry about being a grandmother too soon. As for everyone at school, you can't say you really pay enough attention to them to care what they whisper about.  
  
Despite having all this to think about, and despite being frequently reminded of your first kiss under the mistletoe, there's something else you dream about more than anything: being pressed against Ginny the darkness of the cupboard and hearing her whisper magical words – because she's reminded you of it every night since. 


End file.
